Regularly Scheduled Programming
by reine-des-rythmes
Summary: Castiel has an encounter.


"Hello again, Castiel."

Castiel opens his eyes. No, that's wrong, of course. Castiel _becomes aware_.

"Yes, hello. Awake?"

_Aware_.

"Who are you? How did you capture me?" Castiel asks in his song-of-the-spheres symphony of _projected inquiry_.

"I'm Death," says the Other.

That ... isn't wrong, exactly.

"We've met," the Other says pleasantly.

"Yes." He observes (rather without eyes) his surroundings. Not a plane he recognizes. Not in Heaven, Hell, Earth, or what he's glimpsed through the door to Purgatory. It also doesn't _feel _like any of those places, just like this Death doesn't feel like the man in the black suit who wanders the Earth. So...

"We're in-between, currently."

"I ... am dead?" he asks, surprised.

"The memories will return momentarily, but we don't have to wait for them. To business?" The gaunt, hawk-nosed form from Earth appears before him. "Since we know each other best this way."

"I am dead," Castiel repeats.

"Again, indeed. Is it annoying, to have died so often? You've been one of my most frequent customers. The only one from your garrison to get the hang of it, really."

"Dead," Castiel says once more, feeling small, wracking his brain for his last memories. Had Dean and Sam been with him? Are they safe now? Or are they wandering Heaven? (please don't let them be anywhere other than Heaven or Earth)

"I am afraid so," the Other said, sounding irritated. "Let's get to it. You see, this time's a bit different than the others, and I'm anxious to see how you react."

Castiel stops extending his awareness across the endless in-between and pulls his attention in. "To what?"

"The choice I'm about to give you."

Death regards him with very human amusement as he struggles with the Purgatory of questions battering his awareness. "Am I making this choice for myself?" unleashes itself first. Death looks pleased.

"Ah, that's a new one. Run into another Trickster, did you? Not your brother, but one who pretended to be me, led you to believe that you could choose life or death for one and it was for another... clever, but hardly novel."

"My _question_," Castiel reminds him.

"Yes, you make this choice for yourself only."

"What happened to Sam and Dean?"

But Death shakes his head. "The memories _will_ return."

Were he human, Castiel would scowl viciously. Instead he exudes the expression across the wastes of the in-between, and it pulses unpleasantly. "Enough of that," Death says, and Castiel is once more bound within the limits of a human-shape.

"Why did you do that?"

"This face is much more aesthetically pleasing than the other one."

There is a silence.

"I don't think -"

"Do you want to hear your choices, or not?"

Castiel nods Jimmy Novak's head.

"Good. As I said before, this choice is slightly augmented from what I've always offered you and every angel in existence before."

"Why is it different now?"

"You've successfully regenerated twice now, Castiel. I just thought, third time's a charm."

Castiel stares at him. "I don't understand. Why would the third time be any different -"

"Dean is right about you, you know. You're hopeless at idiomatic phrasing."

"It wasn't taught in How to be a Human 101 at Angel High." Castiel smirks at Death's uplifted eyebrows.

"How many of the Winchester conversations did you analyze before you picked up sarcasm?"

The smirk fell.

"That's what I thought. Now, the original choice was as follows: You may go from this place and rejoin your Father, become a part of Him, and be at peace for eternity or until he decides to use your Grace to make another angel. Or you may return to the place on Earth where you left."

Castiel reels. "You've offered me this choice twice before," he says quickly. "What did I choose?" He doesn't really know why it's important to know - either way, he was returned to Earth - but he knows what he would choose now, and it's been a long time since he might have wanted to choose differently.

Death is quiet, watching something in the mists below their feet. Castiel shifts his weight from one foot to the other - a habit he had acquired from Sam - and Death says, "Each time... you chose to return to the Earth."

Relief floods him. He remembers dying before, when Raphael and later Lucifer smote him. "I expect I was more reluctant to return the second time," he says.

"Yes, you were not looking forward to watching over Dean with Sam in Hell. But you went anyway," Death says, meeting his eyes. The pupils are as human poets guess - fathomless depths which are only black because they contain no light, unlike the shiny onyx of demons' eyes.

"I choose -"

"I _said_, impatient one, that the choice is different this time."

Castiel rolls Jimmy Novak's eyes. "Why did you tell me a choice I don't get to make?"

"Because you'd made it twice already, and when you hear the new choice, you'll understand. Ready?" Death looks him over and nods. "Not much time, I see. The first option remains as-is. The second option has one addition: you will remember what has happened here, in the in-between."

"My choice is the same."

"I thought it might be."

"What did you mean, not much time?"

Death shook his head. "Those memories of yours, Castiel. They're dangerous. And you'll have them soon." He takes a deep, airless breath. "I may have forgotten one vital part of the second option: you must undergo an ordeal to get back to Earth. If you fail to complete it, your Father claims you and Castiel will cease to exist as an independent being."

"What is the ordeal?"

"Nearly here," says Death, almost to himself. Castiel turns his head, searching.

"What is?"

"The _memories_, Castiel."

He can hear them now.

Oh. _Oh._

The _souls_, the war.

Raphael, and terror.

Crowley and panic.

Dean. Regret.

Sam. And ... _the falling wall_.

"_No_," he gasps. Jimmy Novak's body falls to his knees, clutching his head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_."

"As am I." Death's voice fades, the in-between fades. There is blackness, and agony, and wailing, and the souls are ripping through him, making him sick with power, carving away from his Grace a space for themselves to stay, and their claws are deep, and Sam is dying, and Dean is ...

Overhead.

"Cas?"


End file.
